


let lips do what hands do

by thchateaus



Series: saints do not move [1]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Billy's mom is a darling, Childhood Friends, Domestic Violence, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Fluff, Homophobic Language, It's just one scene but I wanted to warn, M/M, Romeo and Juliet References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-10-27 05:57:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20755463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thchateaus/pseuds/thchateaus
Summary: In a world where soulmates are rare and cause you to see in color, Billy and Steve collide on Venice Beach when they're nine years old.





	let lips do what hands do

**Author's Note:**

> hello this ship has GOT. ME.
> 
> Firstly i wanna warn that the domestic abuse scene happens in the section beginning with describing Billy as twelve and a half. It's referenced in other parts but of course he's a child for most of it and doesn't quite understand so it's only implied. Please approach with caution!
> 
> I became obsessed with this trope and had to write something but I mainly wanted to write a fic exploring what Billy would be like if Neil left instead of his mother. That and I love him and want the best for him

Billy first meets Steve a day after his ninth birthday.

He’s down by the beach. His mom sometimes takes him there after school. It’s not far, his house is just past the pier, but she says it's too dangerous alone. But it was just his birthday. And besides, his nerf ball had already broken. And he’d used up all of his quarters in the arcade. What else was he supposed to do?

The waves are pretty too. Feel good as they wash over his legs. It’s too hot today.

He digs the plastic shovel he’d taken from an abandoned blanket into wet sand and watches the water bubble to the surface. Presses his hand into it and watches it be submerged in sand and water alike. Watches the lights of the pier in the distance, the volleyball court.

Then the tide comes in again, bringing a transformer figure with it, and pools at his ankles. He stands to grab it out of the water, notes a name carved into the back with a worn sharpie.

“Hey, you found Bumblebee!” A kid says, making Billy look up, and his vision erupts with colour.

Bright, brown eyes come closer, closer until they collide and fall back, toy caught between them in the waves enveloping their feet. Blue suede shoes and Billy’s sandals.

It’s kinda overwhelming, everything is so bright and so full and the boy’s still staring at him, his mouth wide.

“What is-”

“You see it, too?” Billy asks, and the boy looks as shocked as he does. Then, he breaks into a grin and if anything, the colours get even prettier.

“Yeah,” A wave hits them and it goes like mid-waist but he doesn’t care. Feels so warm inside despite the cold, cold water that nearly bows them over again.

“It's-” Billy breaks off to laugh, “Sorry for knocking you over.”

“I ran into you,” The boy smiles, his cheeks a little blotchy, and he has a gap in his teeth. He pulls seaweed off of his leg and throwing it into the sand. It shines in the sun. “You wanna swap?”

“No way,” Billy watches blue envelope the boy in red trunks, watches him pout. That makes him laugh and he offers the toy out with an open palm. “Do you wanna help me build my castle?”

The boy tilts his head to look at the castle made up of entirely one crumbling, vaguely cone-shaped figure, takes his toy and Billy’s hand. “You need to make it further up the beach or it’ll keep being ruined. C’mon.”

He looks back to the toy figure, reads in red cursive: Steve.

“Can I play with the transformer, too?” He asks Steve, who looks at him like he'd grown two heads.

“Duh. You need a Kingsguard.”

So he lets Steve pull him away. Lets him help build, even if it means they had to use up Steve’s quarters to buy another two buckets, including a cone one for the towers that cost two bucks more than they had. They decorated the walls with stones (windows, Billy), created a moat and filled it with seawater as a radio nearby played Brandy. Even if the sun quickly dried up all the water ten minutes after they finished and the ocean flooded everything, it was his favourite thing he’d ever made.

They built and they decorated and split a cone until it started to get colder and the water closer and closer.

“What happened to your tooth?” Billy asks when they’re walking home, buckets full of pretty shells and sand and Billy’s sandals.

Steve grins, mint ice cream dried on his lip. “Fell off the monkey bars last week. Blood everywhere. It was so gnarly, my mom went ape! Have you been to the park here?”

Billy can’t stop watching the pink sky paint everything golden. “No, my dad doesn’t- He won’t let me go. Gets angry. He’s a butthead, y’know?”

Steve frowns, grips Billy’s arm harder. “You can come to my tree house whenever you want. It has a slide, too! You can bring your transformers!”

“Okay,” Billy says, not sure how to say his dad threw his only toys away when he got mad at mom, “Can I come tomorrow?”

“Yeah!” Steve grins. “Promise?”

Billy nods. “I’m not missing out on a slide.”

And so he does. And every day after that in the summer, especially the weekends, when his dad gets loud and his mom disappears.

Steve takes everything and makes it bright. His mom makes them sandwiches and lets them spend a little longer than they should in the pool. Then when his dad is away, Billy’s mom lets them play at home and they listen to her records even if Steve would deny every time that he knows every word Billy Joel sings.

His mom would take them to the beach on Friday’s when his dad was away for work and they could take as long as they like. They’d split ice cream, a bucket, tokens.

Every second of that summer is vibrant, rich in colour and so exciting. Billy loves every second with Steve, even if he can’t understand why exactly it gets so much brighter when he’s with him.

* * *

He’s ten when Steve gets a tutor.

She’s there on the weekends, super early, early enough that Steve comes knocking at the door when it's barely nine. And he always complains, tells Billy about learning cursive and how to talk all fancy. She’s there sometimes after school, too, and that’s a whole other ballpark.

School makes it a little harder for them to hang out.

Steve goes somewhere fancy, is gone by the time Billy catches the bus to his. He comes home in a uniform, jacket red like his trunks the day they met, all pressed and perfect. It makes Billy sad.

He sneaks out of his lessons, anyway. Pulls Billy along cobblestones and up a wooden ladder and up to their tree house. Well, Steve says it's both of theirs now since most of Billy’s toys and his books are here. It’s bright, covered in paints they’d strewn everywhere during a storm that made the walls rattle and had them huddled in blankets while reading aloud so they wouldn’t cry.

The tutor sometimes leaves if they stay hidden in there long enough. Usually, Steve’s mom will call his and she’ll pretend to be angry then take him home and she’ll read to him anyway.

He wishes Steve could come to his school. He hates it without Steve there. It’s boring and the food tastes like dirt and nobody is nice to him. Except for his art teacher. She lets him use too much paper and swirl the paints together in their pots and calmly explains why they change colour. She doesn’t look at him weird when he knows the difference between orange and pink and purple like everybody else. Just smiles, and shows him how to make them.

She lets him take little sample paints home with him, sticks his artwork on the wall next to the chalkboard and it makes him smile every time he sees it. She almost makes school and all the people so mean and stuck in grey worth it.

Then he gets to go home, gets to run to the pier with Steve and spend the quarters they save or steal from their parents and surf then lay in the sand until the sun sets.

They work it out.

* * *

He’s Eleven when he leaves California for the first time.

Mom is busy working overtime and dad is working away. So Steve’s parents invite him away on their winter break for the weekend.

His mom is ecstatic for him and, like, really, it's a no-brainer. Steve’s smile when he agrees to go is worth it and besides, it sounds pretty cool.

The airport is kinda crazy and there’s a loud baby on the flight but the snow swirling around outside the window cools him down.

Breckenridge is pretty. Like, really pretty. It's also tiny. He kind of hates it. It feels suffocating, with so few buildings and such little noise. It's at least different when they get checked in at the ski resort.

There are people everywhere, skis tracking in thick snow that chills him to the bone. He can’t stop reaching down to run his fingers through it even as Steve’s mom laughs.

They come here every year, Steve whispers, that it's still really cool to him, too. Billy’s pretty sure he’s lying but he appreciates it anyway.

They ski together and Billy falls on his ass too much but Steve gets snow down his collar and he’s never laughed so hard in his life, he doesn’t think. They go skating on the frozen lake, too, when his parents leave to ask about getting food delivered to the cabin.

Steve holds his hand all the way back to the cabin, gloved and shaking with the cold. When they get in, there’s Christmas food laid out like on the tv. Billy eats until he’s stuffed and Steve’s dad proposes board games. Steve groans with a mouthful and his mom hisses about keeping manners.

Steve sticks his tongue out when she leaves to get her second bottle of wine.

Billy is the first to sleep and last to wake.

There’s a Christmas tree in the living area and Steve’s dad says something about celebrating early. Billy gets a snow globe featuring LA, gold flecks serving as snow when he shakes.

“We weren’t sure what to get you,” His mom smiles and Steve bites at his cheek beside him.

“I didn’t get-”

Steve cups the snow globe in his palm and Billy’s hand tingles. “You actually made this fun. It's the best gift ever.”

Billy hugs him tight.

* * *

Billy is twelve and six months when he realises monsters exist.

The day starts well. Perfect, actually.

The beach is pretty deserted and the waves are calm enough that mom lets him and Steve go surfing. Steve sucks, obviously, still can’t quite get his balance right.

Steve, predictably, puffs up and goes red every time Billy cackles when he falls in the water. Then he tends to pull Billy off of his own and they dunk each other ‘til his mom calls out to them to be careful.

Eventually, once they’re both pruney and soaked through, mom calls them back to the sand. She pulls out towels and more sunscreen and boops Steve’s slightly pink nose.

She takes them for ice cream and asks they hurry because dad will be mad. Billy doesn’t get it because like. Dad can be a dick and he does get mad sometimes. But why would this make him angry?

They drop Steve off home and mom grips his hand so hard his skin goes white.

The house smells of alcohol.

Pungent, like it's been flooded with the stuff. It makes his eyes sting.

“Go to your room, baby,” Mom whispers and he doesn’t have time to question it before a door is slammed.

“Where were you?” Dad slurs, saliva down his chin. The smell grows stronger.

“I already told you,” Mom approaches slowly, settles her bag down on the table. “I took the boys surfing then they wanted ice cream. That’s why we’re a little late.”

“Don’t lie to me, bitch,” Dad spits out, drink in his hand sloshing and threatening to spill.

“We did, dad, Steve and I asked to stay longer-”

“You know what,” The drink tips over and onto tiles as he steps closer to Billy. Mom moves to stand in between them, “I have had it up to fucking here hearing about that little faggot. Steve, this, Steve, that. I thought I raised you better.”

“Leave him alone,” Mom pushes him back, enough that he stumbles back into a chair. It clatters to the floor and Billy can’t stop shaking. “Don’t speak to my son that way.”

“Your- your son?” Dad laughs, verging on shouting, and something changes. It's like a switch. Then he’s throwing the glass to the wall. “The only reason you’re here is because you need my fucking money, bitch. He’s my boy.”

Mom pushes Billy back toward the door. He feels frozen to the floor.

“He is nothing like you,” She snarls, “I won’t let you ruin him.”

“What, you gonna run off? You need me, whore. You and the little fucking pansy.”

Billy doesn’t think when he charges past his mom to push dad back. He thinks of nothing but rage when he punches at his torso, screams to leave his mom alone.

His dad knocks him to the floor.

There’s glass in his leg. He knows because there’s a hole in his shorts. Filling slowly with blood. He pulls it out and doesn’t care for any kind of pain when he stands up and stalks forward to get between him and mom before he can touch her.

Dad laughs, brings his fist back when mom beats him to it. Her knuckles must connect with something because dad stumbles back with a cry, blood spurting from between his fingers.

“Go to Steve’s, use their phone. I’ll be right there.”

“Mom-”

She wipes at his tears and he wants to be sick when he spotted dad standing up again.

“Please.”

He leaves the door open wide when he runs.

He can see Mr Milton on his porch, phone in hand. Still, he doesn’t stop until Steve’s mom is opening the door and he sees Steve in the hallway. He meets him halfway and holds Billy so tight he can barely breathe but it's comforting.

“There’s- I need to call the police, Mrs Harrington, please,”

She comes forward and places a hand on his shoulder, Steve curled into the other.

“I’ll call,” She reassures, squeezing the flesh. “Steve, why don’t you take Billy to help yourselves to the mint chocolate I have hidden away?”

“Yeah,” Steve nods and takes his hand. Pulls him through the kitchen and to the tree house in the backyard. It's almost menacing in the dark.

Steve doesn’t ask, doesn’t pry, comforts him in silence when he cries. Cleans up the blood with the first aid kit his mom had insisted they keep in there.

And when he stops, finally, hurting so much he can cry no more, Steve encases him in blankets.

He doesn’t remember falling asleep but he wakes to a knock on the flooring of the tree house. Disoriented, he shoots up with the sun in his eyes, and Steve’s head pokes through.

“Your mom’s here,” He says, chews at his cheek. “They said I had to wake you up. I wanted to let you sleep, but, like. Your mom can be really intimidating.”

“Yeah,” Billy agrees and follows him out.

His mom crumples when she sees him, pulling him into her arms. There are stitches on her left cheek and her eye is swollen shut.

Her smile, when she pulls back, is beautiful.

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m so glad to see you.”

They explained later that dad had gotten arrested. He thinks of him alone in a cell, screaming for attention that nobody will bother to give.

Mom says he should be home tomorrow and he knows the lump in his throat is bile.  
He looks to her bruising and thinks of vodka on his breath and it makes his chest hurt.

Because monsters exist.

* * *

When Billy turns thirteen, his dad doesn’t come home from work.

Steve, his parents and a couple of their neighbours come over for his birthday. Mrs Lewis from two doors down brings Tupperware full of chicken skewers and waffles and sandwiches packed together and Steve’s mom hands him a packaged box of cupcakes from the bakery downtown. Steve hugs him soon as they’re through the door, babbling about school and Billy warms.

“We wanted to thank your son for being such a good influence on our boy,” Steve’s dad’s voice is gruff, and Steve snickers beside him because just yesterday they filled his tutor’s shoes up with toothpaste.

He presents a box labelled ATARI from their trunk and puts it at Billy’s feet.

His mom is waving away tears while she thanks them for their generosity and Steve’s mom squeezes her arm, and he doesn’t understand but Steve tugs at his hand and asks quietly if they can play it together.

“Of course, after the party,” His mom sniffles, her mascara a little blotchy but her eyes so blue and clear as she looks at him. Her injuries have long since healed, only a little, white line across her cheek remaining. He nods an okay and feels so small and can’t breathe when Steve pushes The Magician’s Nephew into his hands.

Billy looks down and flips it open. It’s a hardback, brand new and smells a little of the forest just outside of town his mom took them camping for the weekend at. “I thought you didn’t have this one?”

Steve shifts. “I begged mom to let me get you a gift too and dad crapped himself when I brought up literature. I know you really liked the one with the evil woman. This is, like, the book set before that?”

“A prequel,” Billy points out because he learnt it in class and knew it made him sound smart. Steve smiles and he can’t help but do the same. “You’re my favourite person ever. Thank you.”

Steve shrugs, “Do you want to read it now?”

“Yes please, if that’s okay, mom?”

She watches them with a small smile, a sad one, Billy can tell. It’s a lot like the one she uses to tell Billy goodnight when dad comes home angry. Now, he thinks, she’s just being brave for him.

“Absolutely.”

And so they curl up together on the floor to read while Springsteen plays on the radio until he looks up and nearly everyone is gone. They’d all been nice to him, even Mr Milton who hates when he throws his football onto his lawn or plays his mom’s records too loud.

Steve’s mom even hugs him when they leave. He gets flustered and his mom laughs even though her eyes are red while she tells him to say thank you so it's okay. Steve gags at the display after like two seconds and acts like he’s gonna throw up the three cupcakes he’d inhaled after they’d smuggled into their corner in the living room.

Then Steve’s mom is telling him to be home by eight and they truly are alone when they hear sniffling in the kitchen.

“I think she’s upset,” Steve whispers, folding a corner of the page.

He finds his mom by the dishwasher, holding a plaid shirt he knows is his dad’s, the only thing of his left in the house. And it doesn’t make sense, not really. But dad had gotten more angry and cruel since that night six months back so maybe this is good.

“Mom, it’s okay,” He says, clutching at her middle, and she holds him and sobs until she can’t anymore.

She wipes her cheeks, blotchy and red, and crouches to his level. “Things aren’t going to be the same anymore with- with Dad. He isn’t going to be around at all anymore. It's just you and me now. Do you understand that, Billy?”

“Yeah,” He says, feeling something angry and hot rise in his chest. “He can’t- He doesn’t get to be the one to just, just leave-”

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m sorry.” She’s crying again and Billy feels itchy all over. “I really didn’t want to have to tell you-”

“Did he get angry with you again? Did- are you hurt?”

“No,” She pushes his hair back from his face, presses a kiss to his temple. “That’s not something you need to worry about, you hear me? Not ever again. I promise, baby, never.”

“Mom,” is all he chokes out, scrambling to sit in her lap at the same time she pulls him into a hug.

They sit for a while, right there on the blue and white kitchen tiles while he hides sobs in her shoulder and feels like he’s drowning. He doesn’t understand. Doesn’t get why his dad is the one that left and why he was always so mean and what any of it means.

She rubs his back and talks quietly when he sniffles into her shoulder.

“Does that mean I can go to the park with Steve now? And listen to your records?”

She snorts a wet laugh, stroking his cheek with her thumb. “You can listen to them whenever and as loud as you like.”

“Even if Mr Milton gets mad?”

“Especially if he does,” Her smile isn’t totally happy but her eyes go all wrinkly and Billy smiles too. “I love you so much, baby. We’re going to be just fine.”

He hugs her again and she laughs as she struggles to keep steady where she crouches.

Then Steve comes in with a cupcake that he must’ve saved and does a bad job pretending he hadn’t overheard their conversation.“The party was really good, Ms. Hargrove.”

“You know it's Mary to you, sweetheart, and thank you for saying so. Even though I didn’t see you boys leave your little world once.” She wipes her eyes, inhaled, and ruffles both of their hairs. Billy grumbles and Steve cackles. Probably more at his expense than anything.

“Hey, Narnia is really good, mom, not our fault you can’t understand it.” Billy protests, crossing his arms.

“It is,” Steve knocks his foot and then Billy just feels weird and gross like he needs to hold Steve’s hand. So he does and Steve pulls him up with a grin.

To smush frosting on his face.

Billy gapes, looks around the kitchen, and takes a handful of chocolate sponge and presses it into his forehead.

Steve smiles something wicked and tackles him, complaining about how much his mom is gonna hate getting chocolate out of blue cashmere when he sees his freeze.

Billy, his hand full of grapes, raises a brow back at her. Steve steals one and munches with his mouth open because he’s disgusting.

“Mom?” He questions and she quickly waves him off.

“Did you say blue, Steve?”

He nods, picking the fruit from Billy’s palm where they sit up. He catches the cake stuck to his cheek and eats that, too. Billy gags and shoves him away. Gross.

“Mom gets all-” Steve waves his hands and makes some kind of noise he thinks is meant to be a bird, “Dad’s isn’t that bad about it ‘cause he says most people can’t see colour anyway so it doesn’t matter. Like, I don’t even get it.”

Her eyes keep flitting between Billy and Steve.

“Is his sweater blue to you, Billy?”

“Is it not meant to be?” He frowns, ignoring Steve’s stupid face and his pout. He’s tired of not understanding what’s going on and feels anger thrum below. “Is there something wrong with me?”

“No,” She smiles, shakes her head and palms his cheek. “You’re just a little different to most people and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

Steve nudges a little closer, his cheeks a little pink, “Can other people see colours then? ‘Cause my dad-“

“Some can,” She wipes the frosting from his temple with her sleeve. “Do you know what soulmates are?”

Steve’s frown deepens, “He told me that he and mom aren’t, like, soulmates. That he didn’t care ‘cause it's childish. That it’s make-believe. Bullshit.”

“Did he tell you what happens when you meet them?”

Steve glances at Billy and his face goes red. His mom smiles wide.

“Ah.”

Billy doesn’t understand, not at first. Watches as Steve goes shy and rubs his arms and his mom gives him weird looks.

Then he thinks back to when they first met. How the second he saw Steve, everything had burst into colour and stayed that way since. Sometimes, it gets a little paler, like when dad wouldn’t let him go to Steve’s over the weekend. When his parents would whisk him away or something.

Like they were connected, somehow.

“Can- can we still be best friends?” He asks, fear tickling his spine.

“You can be whatever you want to be. It just means you’re a little more special to each other. Like the bestest of friends.”

Steve knocks their shoulders together. Frosting falls in Billy’s hair.

It’s not until later after they order takeout and stuff their faces while his mom calls at the Harringtons’ to tell them Steve is staying over to finish their book, that he properly gets it.

Everyone else he knew couldn’t see in colour. And he knew it was a little weird that he could but he never cared much because it felt like some cool ability only he and Steve had. Like superheroes. And it was all theirs. He had no idea soulmates even existed outside of books.

Steve is asleep next to him, snoring against Billy’s shoulder and probably drooling. No, he realises. _Definitely_. And his gross, snotty snores in his ear made him feel warm. Like, how hot chocolates on a snow day or the sun after it rains. But better.

And Steve makes him feel like this… all the time. It's just stronger, somehow.

But it's not scary. And, when he rests his head on Steve’s as Jaws starts again, he knows why. Steve is his best friend, his favorite person. And he loves him, more than he should love another boy, but he doesn’t care. Because he makes everything brighter.

* * *

When he’s fourteen, he gets into a fight.

It’s not his first and definitely not his last.

His nose drips with blood, his hands are sore and everything is red. His fury, his knuckles, the other boy’s nose, too. He raises his fists and bares his teeth when the boy comes forward again until Steve is hissing in his ear and dragging him away.

“They’re not worth it,” Steve is saying, wiping at the blood with pristine, white cotton sleeves. His parents are gonna be mad. He cups Billy’s face and he leans into it and heaves out a breath. “C’mon, Bill. They’re just shitheads.”

He can hear the boys behind them laugh and his hands tremble. He watches Steve, only Steve, and snarls. “They called you-”

Steve’s face twists and there’s a sad little smile as he shakes his head. It hurts, it hurts more than the bruise forming on his jaw. “I don’t care. It's just- just some word and you mean more to me than whatever shit they sprout. Okay?”

“Yeah,” Billy gives in, deflating in Steve’s arms as he pulls him into a hug and flips off the guys as they retreat.

Steve lowers them to the merry go round and pulls his bag close, opens it up and takes out a pack of tissues. Knows that they’re for allergies Steve refuses to admit he has and snorts. Blood runs down his lips.

“Jesus-” Steve sighs, and wipes at his face. Dabs until he’s satisfied enough and pushes his thermos into his chest. “Please don’t ever do that again. Not for me.”

Billy shakes his head, “I would every day for you, Stevie.”

Steve’s nostrils flare but he doesn’t say anything, instead takes Billy’s hand in his and delicately dabs at his knuckles. They’re angry and purple and tingle when Steve presses his lips to them.

“You’re my best friend, not my bodyguard, I don’t need you to defend my honour.” He frowns like he is the one in pain. He laughs, quiet and a little empty. “I swear, you’re gonna fucking kill me.”

“I don’t care,” Steve lowers his head to hide his smile, and Billy feels his mouth tug. “I wasn’t gonna just let them be dicks to you. But I- I won’t, again.”

“Good,” Steve’s smiling openly now, “Why don’t you buy me ice cream, mint chocolate, and we call it even? I’ll tell my mom I fell over again and you, like, came to rescue me.”

Billy reddens and elbows Steve’s side and gets him cackling.

“Whatever. The pier?”

Steve pulls him up, keeping their hands locked. “Duh.”

* * *

He’s fifteen when he tells Steve that he has a crush on him.

It happens like this: they’re doing homework, because that’s all that the last year of middle school apparently consists of, Steve at the head of the bed and Billy the tail. Bowie’s playing, Billy’s favorite, even though he tells everyone that it’s Scorpions. He’s doing nothing but eating cookies his mom made (then stayed for a long time after until Billy went red head to toe) while Steve hums along and toys with pastels.

Billy hasn’t even got the textbook open, is instead tapping his pen away at the cover while Steve shoves chocolate chips in his open mouth and gets crumbs down himself and has an oil pastel in the other hand. He’s gross, so gross with hair that sticks up everywhere in the ugliest pattern shirt he’s ever seen like two sizes too big for him that he knows he got from the new thrift shop a block over.

He smiles when he notices Billy looking and pauses with blue oil pastel in his fingers. He’s shading a sketch of lovers of Verona, one donned in white at the top of a balcony and the other in an unmade suit at the bottom. The girl almost falling over the railing and the boy reaching far on the tips of his toes as their hands barely touch. Plants vine the brickwork around them.

“What?” He giggles a little and Billy knows it's borne out of nerves. Knows him like the back of his hand or blind-folded or whatever metaphor fits best. Whatever. Steve’s cheeks go blotchy and pink the longer Billy watches him.

“Why’d you pick Romeo and Juliet in an assignment where you could’ve drawn anything? Like… anything else.”

Steve squints a glare before thwacking at his crossed legs. He barely reaches.

“One, you loved that play when I made you watch the movie so shut your damn mouth. Second,” He stutters, ”‘cause it's- it’s beautiful. They’re, like, so badly in love but everything just goes to shit because of and in spite of that. But they’re still- they still try and they still love. Like, I like that. And the theme was Europe, so, y’know.”

Billy’s heart is crawling up his throat. “You really think that?”

Steve shrugs, which means yes, and goes back to adding color to the scene.

“I do, I do think that,” Steve says after a moment of silence with nothing but Life on Mars to fill it up. He looks across to Billy, gaze unwavering and eyes wide.

“I like you,” Billy says, easy as anything, chest heaving. “Like, not just- Not just as a friend. I needed you to know that. I love you so much. And it's okay if you don’t- you’re my best friend and will always be, y’know, so-”

“Okay,” Steve cuts in and pushes his sketchbook to the side.

* * *

Billy’s fifteen and twenty-something seconds old when he has his first kiss.

Steve eases up the bed like a spooked animal, his brown eyes trained on Billy’s so open and warm and so beautiful. He cups his cheek and Billy’s eyes fall shut.

“Steve,” He whispers then lips are on his.

It’s short, more like a press of lips than anything given neither of them has ever done anything like it before but Billy feels electricity down to his toes anyway. Steve smiles and kisses his cheek before sitting back. He bites into a smile, beetroot red down to his collar, and Billy grabs his hand and squeezes because it feels like the right thing to do.

Steve breaks into a smile so wide his eyes become pretty creases and Billy is so, so in love that it hurts.

“Me too, for, like, _so _long,” Steve breathes out, and it's not cohesive but Billy smiles so big his cheeks feel like they’re splitting.

Steve fumbles behind him for the plate of cookies and settles it on Billy’s lap, curls up beside him and shoves it in his mouth. It's so normal and Billy’s so happy that he has to stuff one of them in his mouth before he starts crying.

* * *

Billy’s two weeks from sixteen when his mom finds out that they’re maybe more than friends.

Steve’s over after school, as usual, chattering his and his mom’s ears off about how his parents are leaving for a couple of weeks. His aunt’s there to house and babysit but his mom reassures that he can stay over as much as he likes. Billy doesn’t miss the way Steve whoops and snorts before he asks if they’re up for Halloween thriller marathons.

Mom leaves them to get the VHS set up and then Steve’s dropping his bag by Billy’s bed and rushing forward to hug him.

“I missed you,” Steve mumbles into his shoulder and Billy feels this weird tug in his chest and wraps his arms around his waist. “Fuck, I hate that school. I hate being away from you.”

“Yeah, I had a great day at normal people school. Thanks for asking, Steve.”

Steve cackles and pushes at him with zero intent and just stares. Then he leans up to cup Billy’s cheek and press his mouth to the other. Billy leans into the touch and it's kinda perfect when Steve smiles against his skin.

“I’m glad you had a good day. I would’ve asked about it if you’d given me a chance,” Steve’s smile is lopsided and Billy rolls his eyes. Leans back down to kiss him and feels giddy when Steve meets him halfway.

Then there’s a clearing of the throat that definitely wasn’t him or Steve and he jumps back.

He turns around to see his mom stood in the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest and her smile barely hidden. “I was going to ask if you guys wanted anything making for dinner but I can see that I’m interrupting, so...”

“I could go for some food,” Steve squeaks where he hides behind him and Billy bites into a grin, feeling warm all over.

Something in her eyes softens and he realizes he must be blushing. “You guys wanna just order takeout?”

Billy nods, unable to speak. And she runs her hand through his hair, eyes so warm.

“You finally figured it out,” She chuckles, squeezing Steve’s shoulder too, and he’s so overwhelmed with love he could cry. Maybe he is.

“Yeah,” Steve breathes, smiling up at him, and Billy swallows. Then he looks to his mom and cracks his knuckles. “Halloween?”

She grins, “Good idea.”

They get to Laurie hiding out in Jimmy’s car when Steve starts to get sleepy. He yawns like every two minutes in Billy’s ear and it's annoying but it’s just cute enough that he doesn’t mind so much.

He’s just about falling asleep himself when the credits roll and his mom settles a blanket over both of them.

“Love you, mom,” He mumbles and gets a kiss to the top of his head.

“You too, sweetheart.”

* * *

On his sixteenth birthday, Steve buys him flowers.

Or, gets them with his father’s credit card he isn’t meant to know about from the flower store Mr Milton’s wife owns but Billy doesn't care because its the sweetest fucking thing. They’re in a fancy vase when he hands them to Billy, all shy and pretty in his vibrant backyard opposite the greenhouse.

Billy kisses him with the sun beating down on his face. Steve pulls him closer, kisses back with his hands on his waist until sprinklers interrupt them.

“Are you kidding me?” Billy pulls away and immediately goes to protect his hair. It took him a whole half an hour to get it looking good and now? Ruined.

Steve, shockingly, doesn’t seem bothered at all when he walks backwards and directly into the stream of water.

“Are you insane?” Billy’s throwing his hair up and Steve just grins wider, tilts his head back.

“Maybe,” He tugs Billy forward and of course Billy goes. He’d follow him anywhere. “Or maybe we should cool off.”

It's no surprise that Steve tackles him to the wet ground soon as he gets close enough and promptly gets him soaked head to toe. But he doesn’t care. He’s happy, so fucking happy, even with water soaking into his clothes and flattening his hair to his face. They wrestle ‘til there’s a hiss from the back door and his aunt telling them to behave.

Billy grabs the sprinklers and chases Steve around and laughs so hard he feels sick rise in his throat. Then laughs more when Steve slips over and gets mud all over his front. Steve just shrugs it off. His parents aren’t home so he doesn’t have to dress up smart and act all proper and he clearly revels in it.

There’s a towel on the counter when they stumble through the sliding doors and a note to accompany saying that his aunt has gone home.

“Wanna play my Atari?” Steve asks, muffled with his face hidden in a towel.

“Yeah, sure,” Billy shrugs, “Can I borrow some of your clothes?”

Steve’s hair is wild, sticking up everywhere and dripping water droplets in his eyes. He nods, handing the towel to him.

“Yeah, sure.”

It’s after he’s squeezed into one of Steve’s graphic tees and jeans when Steve presses another gift into his hands. They’re in the hallway but Steve insists he open it right here and Billy can never tell him no. It’s terrible.

It’s a Bumblebee figure.

Not the same as the first day they met but similar enough that he knows straight away what it is.

Steve wrings his hands together, “I couldn’t find the original, like, I must have thrown it out or something. But I thought it was- it's stupid, I don't know.”

“It is stupid,” Billy can’t resist but to tease, bites at his cheek to hold in his laughter when Steve’s jaw drops. “I love it though. I love, well, you know I love you, too. You’re so fucking sweet.”

“Are you fucking with me?” Steve narrows his eyes, even as he flushes and drops his gaze to the figure.

Billy snorts, “No, asshole! It's thoughtful of you and you’re really cute.”

“Okay,” Steve nods, repeats, “Okay. I’m glad you like it. I just wanted to remind you of that day ‘cause it's just. It's so special to me. You are, too.”

Billy wraps him up in a hug, figure squashed between them and nuzzles his hair in Steve’s face until he’s grinning big. Pulls back and Steve’s doe eyes are a little shiny.

“I love you,” He cups Billy’s face, steeling himself. “I’m glad that you’re- my soulmate. Maybe this would’ve happened anyway if we weren’t but I feel so lucky every day that you’re with me and I wanted you to know that’s how I feel. And that’s why I got you the dumb toy.”

“Steve,” He says, because he doesn’t trust himself to say anything else, and presses their foreheads together. He can hear the way Steve’s heart pulses, knows his own is in the same state. He hopes the way he trembles as he kisses Steve’s cheek says it all.

He wants nothing more or less than this. Just Steve, just existing together and the warmth he blooms.

* * *

Billy’s sixteen and a month old to the day when the color drains from his life and he’s left in the dark.

They have to leave because his father has better job opportunities halfway across the country, he says through sobs and kisses that he whimpers into. He found good business in Indiana, won’t say anything but that it's a small town and that Steve will love it.

He won’t, he spits when sadness isn’t enough anymore, won’t leave Billy no matter what. He’ll move in, do chores and weasel his way into Mrs Milton’s store to pay his rent. Billy bawls and holds him for what feels like hours until they fall asleep wrapped up in each other’s limbs.

His mom wakes them, Steve’s own stood behind her, stoic and almost regretful.

He feels his ribs split with every step Steve takes out of the house. He’s almost at the car when he runs back to wrap his arms around Billy’s waist and kiss him deep in spite of the gasps of his parents. Fuck them, Steve hisses, digs his nails into Billy’s back where he’s clutching so tight.

Then they’re forcing him down the driveway and Steve’s screaming, he’s thrashing at his dad’s arm as his mother looks the other way at onlooking neighbors. They all look sad and it just makes Billy feel worse.

He’s crying so hard he doesn’t remember his mom calling his name until he’s cradled in her arms like a child half his age. The Harringtons are driving away and he thinks of the play about love cursed to doom that Steve loves so fucking much while his sight goes duller with every blink.

He watches until the car and rental van are no longer in view and his world settles back nice and awful in grey.

* * *

Things get worse in every way they can after that and Billy thinks it's kind of fucking funny, really.

He gets transferred to another school further out into the city for beating Jimmy Mitchell to a pulp. It's the first thing he feels in days, that sick satisfaction of watching the guy cower after picking at Billy for years. He hears that the guy has a couple of broken ribs. Doesn’t get to stick around to find out properly. It’s probably not the only reason, given that he refused to do any kind of work or anything involving school.

The new school sucks. Junior year started two weeks back and he’s the new kid everybody knows lost his soulmate and beat another guy to the hospital for it. Whatever. Everybody gives him shit and he gives it back and he tries not to think too hard about it when his mom stops trying to tell him to have hope. It's bullshit. Steve’s thousands of miles away and there’s no point.

Then rent starts to go up. Shit like his Atari he never opened and their VHS are the first to go. His mom has to pick more shifts, ends up working more than she isn’t and Billy’s just so fucking alone.

But he gets over it, best as he can. Focuses on class and channels his anger into basketball and fills his nights with shitty people who couldn’t care less about him and their cheap beers and pretends it fills up that hole.

* * *

Hawkins, Indiana is first mentioned a little after Thanksgiving, which had been just he and his mom watching crappy B-rated horrors sharing a cake they’d made together and turkey sandwiches from 7/11.

So it was kind of perfect.

Then after they’d eaten and his mom was silent, looking down at her lap, he’d poked until she told him why.

She was thinking of selling the house. Of moving back to Indiana where she grew up and stayed until Neil asked her to move to California with him when she told him she was knocked up.

He shrugs, isn’t opposed to leaving this town and all of its ghosts, and they fall silent.

They sell up a little over a year later.

* * *

They’re just past the state line for Indiana when Billy starts seeing in color again.


End file.
